


I Like You Forever, I Love You For Always

by bearfeathers



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Capsicoul - Freeform, Celebrations, Cooking, F/F, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Medication, References to Illness, aos spoilers, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many ways to show people that you care. Breaking into their apartment and restocking their fridge isn't what Steve considers one of the conventional methods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Like You Forever, I Love You For Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [totalnerdatheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalnerdatheart/gifts).



“Phil, I really think the girls would prefer their privacy,” Steve says.

“You say that and yet here you are standing next to me in the hallway carrying the groceries,” Phil points out, not bothering to look at him as he gets to work.

“I understand it’s coming from a good place, but breaking into their apartment is a little much, don’t you think?” Steve says, watching Phil pick the lock.

“I don’t see you stopping me,” Phil says as the door swings open.

“That likely has something to do with the fact that whenever I’ve tried to stop you, you generally find a way to do what you want anyway,” Steve notes as he shakes his head and follows Phil through the door, shutting it behind him.

Skye and Jemma’s apartment is comfortably lived in. A lanky black cat and a smaller orange cat greet them at the door, mewing amicably and swatting at their shoelaces as though to tell them to take off their shoes and stay a while. There are sticky notes on the refrigerator, some reminders to pick up groceries and the like, others simply casual written endearments often adorned with doodled hearts or smiley faces. There is a label on the microwave that clearly reads ‘FOOD ONLY, NO SCIENCE’ and a stack of take-out containers in the trash.

“Can you start putting the groceries away? I’m going to make sure Scully and Mulder have enough food and water,” Phil says as he toes off his shoes.

“Might want to check the litter box, too,” Steve says, lifting the bags to the counter.

Phil makes a noise of agreement, disappearing around the corner with the two cats on his heels. Steve watches him go before turning to the refrigerator. He’s not surprised to find that it’s mostly empty, considering the fact that Phil has some sort of sixth sense for these things and that Maria had been working them hard lately.

It’s been an interesting couple of years. Phil’s tenure as Director is at an end as these days he focuses on his recovery while operating as a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D.; the latter came at Maria’s suggestion, as she’d known he’d be worse off without some way of being useful. He’s doing better these days since they’d figured out a treatment for him and the weight of the world had been removed from his shoulders. It had been hard on him, Steve knows—and some days still is—but he’s learning to be patient with himself and to give himself the time he needs to get better.

So he occupies himself with things like this: namely, breaking into the living spaces of the people he cares about to make sure they’re taking care of themselves. No, it’s not the conventional way people show others they care, but Phil’s no more a conventional man than they are a conventional couple. In this case, at least, Steve understands why Phil’s a bit more adamant. Given the fact that the agent has a distinctly fatherly air about him, many people consider it odd when he claims to have no children of his own. Steve knows the truth of the matter, though.

The relationship between Phil and Skye had evolved into one where, when Skye jokingly called him “Dad,” Steve knew it wasn’t entirely a joke. Especially not since she’d taken his last name. Skye’s discovery of her true parentage and her reunion with her biological father had been… well, ‘unpleasant’ didn’t really do it justice. She’d always craved a sense of belonging, of family, and Phil had played a large part in giving her those things. So when she announced that she was looking into adopting a last name, it didn’t seem all that strange that she’d asked for his. (Phil will adamantly insist he hadn’t cried, but they all know better.)

These days, though, Steve wonders if she won’t be retiring ‘Coulson’ for ‘Simmons’ soon. Or perhaps they’ll hyphenate. Or Jemma will take hers. He isn’t really certain how they plan on going about it. Well, he’s getting ahead of himself, anyhow. The point is they’re Phil’s girls. They all know it, even if they don’t say as much.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Steve looks up as Phil strides back into the kitchen and deposits his jacket on the back of a chair before rolling his sleeves up to the elbow. The soldier just smiles and shakes his head.

“Nothing much,” he says. “Have anything in mind for tonight?”

“I’ve got a couple of things I’m considering,” Phil says, washing his hands in the sink. “It’ll a two man job, though. Think you’re up to the task?”

“You know I like a challenge,” Steve says in an amused tone, leaning his hip into the counter. “Alright, Chef, where do we start?”

“You can start by taking your shoes off. You’re tracking dirt,” Phil says, pointing at his feet.

“Cute, Phil,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, but smiling as he moves to take his shoes off all the same.

“And make sure you wash your hands before we start,” Phil says, tapping a wooden spoon in his open palm. “I will not have unwashed hands working in my kitchen.”

“Funny story: it’s not your kitchen.”

“Now who’s being cute?”

They continue to casually flirt as the dinner preparation commences and Steve finds himself glad they’re here. He loves to watch Phil cook, more-so when it’s for other people. Cooking is therapeutic for the agent, keeping his hands occupied and less likely to start drawing and carving and writing. He always seems at ease when he cooks and takes a sort of pride in being able to take care of other people in this way. Leaving the pot to simmer, Steve walks up behind the shorter man and places his hands on Phil’s hips, pressing close so they’re back to chest. He feels the chuckle from Phil as he hears it and slowly sways his hips to the soft tune on the radio, lulling Phil into the same rhythm.

“That’s strange, I seem to recall you being on stove duty,” Phil says.

“Well, if you weren’t so slow chopping those vegetables, maybe I wouldn’t have to come check up on you,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to his neck.

He hears Phil chuckle again, but it’s different than the one just moments before. It’s tighter, less amused and more forced. Usually, a statement like that one would have been enough to goad Phil into a playful bout of teasing, but he finds he gets nothing in return. He wonders if there’s something he’s missing, or if he’s simply looking into it too much, when he notices it. The tremor in Phil’s right hand. Well, it certainly explains why he’d been taking so long with the vegetables. His own right hand leaves the agent’s hip, reaching out to cover Phil’s hand and stop him before he could mistakenly cut himself.

“Let me get your medication,” he says.

Phil sighs, but doesn’t argue. He sits himself down resignedly at one of the chairs at the island counter while Steve retrieves the vial and syringe from his bag. Phil hates this, he knows, but it’s a far better option to the alternative. The agent holds out his left arm when Steve takes the seat beside him. The soldier tears open a small, tin foil package and extracts the alcohol wipe within before gently swabbing down the other man’s forearm. He takes his time with this action, allowing him the opportunity to let his eyes stray towards Phil’s right hand, wrought with tremors as he clenches and unclenches it against his thigh.

“It’s alright,” Phil says, catching him staring. “I was overdue for an episode.”

“You went a lot longer without one this time,” Steve says proudly, plunging the needle into the vial and slowly filling the syringe. “Every time, you go longer and longer without one. Considering where you were last year, you’re making great progress. You just have to be—“

“Patient. I know,” Phil says, a small, indulgent smile on his face. “I’m a big boy, Steve.”

“You certainly are,” Steve says under his breath.

“You stop that,” Phil says, giving him a stern look even as he fights back a smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve replies innocently. He glances up from Phil’s arm once he’s found a good vein. “Ready?”

Phil nods and watches the needle penetrate his skin. Moments after Steve injects him, he closes his eyes and inhales a deep, shuddering breath as a full-body shiver passes over him. Steve slowly withdraws the needle and presses a wadded up piece of gauze to the area, folding Phil’s arm back against his chest to hold it in place. Phil remains sitting upright with his eyes shut, breathing deeply, trancelike, as the serum begins to take effect.

Steve rises from his seat and caps the syringe and cleans the associated paraphernalia up before he returns to the agent. Phil’s right hand still shakes, but less so than a few moments prior, and Steve knows that if they wait just a little while longer he’ll be right as rain. In the meantime, he stands between Phil’s legs and draws him in, strong arms wrapped around Phil as he cradles the former director against his chest. Phil leans into him, drawing off of his strength, his certainty that this will all be alright, that it will all be okay one day, as they wait for the episode to pass. Steve cups the nape of the agent’s neck, massaging gently, and reaches down for his right hand. As he slowly strokes his thumb along the back of Phil’s hand, he can gradually feel the tremors lessening as the medication does its work.

He doesn’t like what the medication does to Phil—doesn’t like how it leaves him drugged up, almost like he’s intoxicated—but given the fact that it’s saving his life, Steve decides that it’s something they can live with. And they have. They’ve learned to live with this, to adapt to it, to accept it as a part of their lives. For the most part, anyway. Phil will never really, completely accept this, he knows. He hates being what he sees as a burden, hates weakness in himself, hates this thing about him that’s completely out of his control, that has hurt people, that has done so much damage.

“Steve.”

Phil looks up at him with sleepy blue-grey eyes and Steve wonders what he might be gearing up to say. The medication can sometimes make him emotional—yet another side-effect that Phil despises—and more than once Steve’s watched him completely break down and spend the next few days beating himself up for doing so. Learning to give himself a break has arguably been Phil’s greatest challenge.

“What is it?” Steve asks quietly.

“Steve,” Phil says. “The rolls are burning.”

He twists sharply, as he suddenly notices that, yes, something definitely smells like it’s burning. He pulls away with a curse as he tries to save the rolls and swears profusely as the fire alarm adds to his misery. But in the middle of his scramble, he hears laughter. He looks over his shoulder to find Phil doing his best to keep a straight face and failing miserably. Looking between the vaguely smoldering rolls and his partner’s laughing face, Steve can’t help but join in.

* * *

“Do I have to change the locks? _Again_?”

Steve looks up from setting the table as Skye and Jemma emerge through the front door, appearing tired after a long day, but no less happy to see them. Phil shrugs as though he doesn’t know what Skye’s talking about as he uncorks a bottle of wine.

“It might not be such a bad idea,” he says. “It wasn’t much of a challenge.”

“You could always just ask for a key,” Jemma says, leaning down to pat Mulder and Scully fondly. “Most people would just ask for a key.”

“That just takes the fun out of it,” Phil declares with a grin.

“And look at you,” Skye says, pointing at Steve. “Enabling him. _Enabler_.”

“Honestly, considering the state of your refrigerator before we got here, I don’t feel all that guilty about it,” Steve says. “Rough week?”

“Rough _few_ weeks, yeah,” Skye says, sliding into one of the seats with a sigh. “Hill is a slave driver.”

“Oh, come on, she’s not that bad,” Phil says.

The look he gets from the two women clearly says otherwise. They hear all about it as dinner gets underway and, more than ever, Steve finds himself glad for this particular eccentricity of Phil’s, this breaking into people’s apartments and filling their refrigerators. Looking at the smiling faces around the table, he believes it’s the sort of thing he could get used to. It’s the best he’s seen Phil look following an episode and however exhausted Skye and Jemma might be, the home cooked meal and company seems to be doing them wonders. By the time dessert rolls around, he finds himself wishing they’d do this more often.

“You should just let us make you a copy of the key,” Skye says, taking a bite of pie. “Because something tells me you’re not going to stop doing this.”

“Oh, he’s not,” Jemma says. “I learned that well enough when I was undercover in HYDRA. In fact, I think half the fun for him was scaring me half to death by breaking in.”

“That’s just mean,” Phil says.

“But true,” Jemma says.

“Maybe a little true,” Phil admits.

“But incidentally, it’s convenient that you came by today,” Skye said, picking at her pie with a secretive little smile on her face.

“Uh-oh. I know that look,” Phil says. “Where’s the body?”

“No, no, there’s no body. Well, not today. There was the other day, but a quick trip to the infirmary took care of that. It was all an accident, of course, but Agent Sitwell is surprisingly understanding for someone who’s been shot by me before,” Jemma says quickly.

Phil and Steve look to her with raised eyebrows as Skye does her best not to burst out laughing. All these years and the biochemist still had that habit of forcing her words out in a rush when she’s embarrassed about what she has to say. It’s an endearing quality, one which happens to be one of Skye’s favorites. Jemma blushes under their stares and clears her throat, preparing for whatever she’d originally intended to say.

“In any case, what I was going to say was, and you’re the first to know apart from Fitz, but…” Jemma says. Her sentence trails off and she looks to Skye for a moment, her smile softening as the hacker reaches for her hand under the table and they gaze at one another with such love in their eyes that Steve doesn’t even have to guess at what they’re going to say. “Well. Skye and I are going to be married.”

It doesn’t take much to get them all out of their seats, embracing and offering congratulations to the happy couple. But in the midst of this, Skye attempts to quiet them down, apparently having even more news.

“Jemma’s got her family flying over from England, but I’m not exactly filling up any seats, here,” Skye admits, rocking on her heels. She looks to Phil as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, which is kind of stupid? Because it’s not something that needs a lot of it, but I was wondering if you’d… give me away? I’ve got a biological father, I know that now, but when it comes right down to it... I’ve got a real dad. And it’s not him. And that’s who I want to walk me down the aisle.”

Skye is smiling, but her eyes are wet as she waits for Phil’s response. Steve knows what the answer will be, but rather than answer straight away, Phil reaches out and pulls her into a fierce hug. Skye hugs him tight as he places a kiss to her temple. Steve lays a hand on Jemma’s shoulder as they give the two their space. He can hear them talking quietly, but what they say is a mystery to everyone except them. It takes him a little longer to find some champagne at this hour, but by the time the four of them are huddled on the sofa and toasting glasses, he considers it well worth it.

The past few years have not been kind, that much they all agree upon. But standing in the middle of the kitchen, watching as Skye and Phil pull away to laugh at each other for crying, only to have Jemma latch onto them with tears in her eyes, Steve figures that it had turned alright where it matters most.


End file.
